These days I remember a lot of people whom I have lost in my life. These include those I lost to the inevitable truth called death, but also those who simply slipped away into oblivion because I have never been very social.
Rigours of living in Bangalore, trying to cope with the complexity called life, juggling between different roles that I need to play is not easy. Keeping people around me happy is the toughest job and I keep failing at that more than often.
Life was much simple when you were growing up. There was no responsibility, and no one depended on you. You were almost in a cocoon, so comfortable, and very care-free. The only pressure on you was to study and do well, which I guess I never did after all.
Last October, my daughter, Yaamini (Ammu) turned six, and she’s growing into a fine young lady. I am also glad to report that she is showing incredible maturity for her age. These days I try to spend some quality time trying to educate her on some hard facts of life. So far she has had a very protected childhood. It has been luxurious compared to what I had.
I now realise what my parents went through when we (that’s my sister and I) were growing up. I always used to wonder why they were so tense and worried about us. I am seeing similar patterns in me.
Till Ammu was about five and a half years old, she was regarded as just a bundle of joy, someone who could just waken you from the deepest and darkest of dumps with just her voice, or presence. All you wanted to do was hug her, kiss her, and make sure that she kept smiling. Everything she did brought you happiness, and you wanted to laugh with her, and cry with her. Even when she threw tantrums, frustrated you with her illogical demands, or made a mess of the house or her dress all you wanted to do was cajole her.
However these days, I see that we are having real conversations that are no longer inane, gibberish, or trivial. She is raising queries that cannot be explained or addressed through baby chat any more.
Sometimes she wants me to treat her like an adult, and not brush away her concerns like I used to do before. At other times, all she wants is that I play with her, indulge her in palaver, treat her like a three-year old.
When you see that your child is growing, developing her own individuality, own little personality, you also have a feeling that you are losing a part of you inch by inch. Today she is dependent on you. Tomorrow she will not be, and that very thought results in a selfish feeling of sorrow.
My mother always used to tell me that her best time was when her children were really small. Yes, we were a handful, but everything about us gave her joy. And as we kept growing, we brought more misery and worries.
I am scared that as time passes by, as my relationship with Ammu transforms, a part of me will start to die.
Life does come a full circle.
This is my 25th post, and for all those who have stopped by, here’s one of my all time favourite songs, a video created to celebrate the life of a very special star.